


the bitter and the sweet

by Burning_Nightingale



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Conversations, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 02:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: Beleg returns to Doriath, though Túrin is loath to let him go.





	the bitter and the sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jenni4765](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni4765/gifts).



> My request was for:
> 
> The HIGHEST rating I would like to RECEIVE is: NC-17 -- Explicit content  
> I would like to RECEIVE a story with the following character(s)/pairing: Either Finrod/Turgon or Beleg/Turin.  
> I would like my story to INCLUDE these elements: Lots of angst, long conversations and/or hurt/comfort, if Finrod/Turgon memories of the Helcaraxe crossing, if Beleg/Turin painful feelings of abandonment by mother (Turin).  
> I DO NOT WANT these elements in my story: Anything is OK. Go for it!
> 
> Hope you enjoy recip!

Beleg had announced his intention to leave that morning.

Túrin could admit to himself that he hadn't taken it well. He hadn't meant to snap; and now he was being immature, sulking alone atop a hill, staring moodily out into the darkness.

He had thought Beleg would stay. Foolish, naive fool that he was, he had really thought Beleg would stay for good.

"Túrin."

He winced; Beleg's was the last voice he wanted to hear. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Yes. Tis' my last night with you, and yet you are sulking out here rather sitting around the fire." He heard Beleg walk forward, felt his presence draw close to his back.

"I wished for a moment alone."

Beleg snorted softly. "You wished to sulk, Túrin, you cannot hide that from me."

Túrin chewed on the stem of his pipe and said nothing, glaring out into the night.

After a moment, Beleg sighed and sat down beside him. "I must go, my friend," he said, his voice gentle. "This is no place for me."

"It could be," Túrin whispered. "I would make it a place for you, if I could."

"My place is my home, Túrin, with my people." Beleg hesitated, then added, "A place you are also welcome."

"I have my own people now," Túrin said tersely.

They didn't speak for a long time, sitting side by side and silent, both immersed in their own thoughts. Túrin could not hold back a rush of misery at the thought of once again being alone, without Beleg by his side.

"I will not stay in Doriath forever," Beleg said eventually. "I am sure I will find time to visit you here, if you remain. And perhaps fate will bring us together again somewhere unexpected."

"Perhaps. Given my luck I think it more likely something terrible will occur, and I will not see you again," Túrin said, his voice bleak.

Beleg laid a hand on his arm. "Don't say such things. I will see you again, I know it."

Túrin laughed without humour. "People in my life have a habit of promising such, and then not returning to me."

Beleg sucked in a breath. "Your father. I am sorry-"

"I barely knew him, but yes, my father. I was thinking more of my mother." Túrin leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "She promised she would follow me to Doriath, you know. She did not keep her word."

"Circumstances have prevented her leaving Dor-Lómin," Beleg said quietly.

"I understand why she did not come with me when I left. The road almost killed us, and she was heavy with child. But when Thingol and Melian sent for her? Why could she not come then?"

"Your sister was a babe in arms," Beleg pointed out.

"Aye, the journey would have been hard on her. But with the spears of the Doriathrim to protect them?" Túrin sighed, clenching his hands into fists. "She has her reasons for not coming. My sister's safety, the danger of passage from the North. I know this. But still my heart feels betrayed."

"It is sometimes hard for the heart to accept what the mind knows to be true," Beleg said.

"The messengers, Beleg," Túrin said darkly, "Aye, the messengers were the bitterest draught to swallow. They could come and go, but my mother could not follow?"

"You know the journey has become increasingly dangerous, even for the messengers, who are well-versed in woodcraft, as you also know," Beleg said, his tone somewhat sharp.

"Because they waited too long!" Túrin burst out. "There was a moment, surely, when the journey was safe enough? When my sister was old enough?" Agitated, Túrin threw himself up and began to pace. "Dor-Lómin is not safe enough for me, but for them, it is suitable? Why would she save one child from that blighted land and not the other? Why would she stay - to torture herself?"

"For her _people_ , Túrin," Beleg snapped, also standing, "Because she is the only leader they have left!"

"Because she sent me away!" Túrin stopped, turning to scowl at Beleg, who glared right back. "I am the rightful leader of my people, but what do I know of them? I had not even seen ten summers when she sent me away to a strange land. And how now can I return, through darkness and a leaguer set against me?"

"You are thinking only of yourself," Beleg said coldly. "Your mother sent you to us so that you might grow up safely, and become skilled in such ancient knowledge and warcraft as we could teach. She sent you to us so that we might mould you into the man who could _reclaim_ his homeland from darkness."

"So you believe, my friend. Aye, 'tis a noble thought! And would have worked well, were Thingol not so determined to keep me tied to his apron strings." Túrin laughed bitterly. "And were I not so _selfish_ , as you say."

"You are selfish!" Beleg burst out. "You hide here and mope instead of coming home! You scorn Thingol's forgiveness because of your own wounded pride!"

There was a long, tense pause. Both of them glared at the other, breathing hard.

"If it had been anyone but me, would they have assumed the worst?" Túrin asked, his voice dangerously quiet. "If it weren't me, the mortal, the strange little curiosity?" He was almost spitting the words in his anger. "I was like a pet, an interesting, rare creature kept out of pity. You may have had noble intentions for me, my friend, but I am not certain everyone did. I am better here, among my fellows."

"Your _fellows_ are not worthy of you," Beleg said.

"And if I cannot lead the basest group of homeless, clanless outlaws, how can I hope to lead the proud men of Dor-Lómin?" Túrin said.

Beleg had no answer for that. They stood silently, staring at each other, each loath to break the silence. Túrin thought he could stand there forever, if it meant Beleg would stay, if it would stop them hurling vicious words at each other.

Eventually Beleg looked away. "I did not mean to fight," he said softly, "I did not mean to part with you like this."

"I do not intend to always make you angry, or disappoint you," Túrin said. "Sometimes I think I could even bear to return to Doriath, if only to stay by your side."

Beleg looked back and him, something like suspicion in his eyes; but he only said, "I wish you would."

Túrin shook his head. "Let us not argue about it again. As you said, it is your last night here. We should enjoy each other's company, while we have the chance."

Nodding, Beleg turned, making as if to go back to the others. Before he'd taken more than a step, Túrin darted forward and caught his wrist. "We don't have to go back," he said in response to Beleg's questioning look. "You do not like them; I will not insist you share the night with them."

Beleg tried to hide it, but Túrin could tell he was relieved. "I have little objection to staying here," he said, carefully pulling his wrist from Túrin's grip. "We do not have a fire, however."

"I thought elves did not feel the cold," Túrin said, trying a smile. It felt a little forced, but it was better than solemnity.

"No, but you do."

"I have my cloak."

"And nothing else! Túrin, you will freeze-"

"I am sure you can lend me some body heat," Túrin said, only half-joking. Then he sat down on the rock he'd occupied earlier, before Beleg could protest any more.

Sighing, Beleg sat beside him. "The moment you start shivering, I am taking you back to the fire," he said.

"We will see." Túrin chuckled quietly. "Come, Beleg, give me news. Though I may not want to return to Doriath, I long to hear of our old companions and how they fare. Is our  friend Mablung as solemn as ever?"

Beleg smiled, and for a time Túrin listened as he shared news of all their old companions, most of them wardens from the marches. He put in a question here and there, but mostly he just listened to Beleg talk, enjoying the sound of his voice.

The hour was growing late when Beleg finally sighed and said, "That is all I can think of, my friend; aside from to say that your friends miss you, and all would welcome seeing you again, wherever they might find you."

"They are valiant people. Maybe one day fate will allow me to cross their paths again." Relaxed, Túrin laid his hands flat behind him and leant back, looking up at the stars. "So much has changed since I left Doriath, Beleg. Sometimes it feels as if those days were a dream."

"They were a good dream," Beleg said softly.

Túrin snorted. "Aye, if you count fighting orcs day in, day out as good!" He turned his head and smiled at Beleg. "Or perhaps you mean they were good because we were together? With that I would agree."

Beleg looked strangely hesitant, but he nodded. "Yes, that was what I meant."

They stared at each other silently for a few moments. Túrin could not work out what was going on behind Beleg's grey eyes. Hesitantly he whispered, "If you do not want to leave, you shouldn't."

"I must," Beleg said, equally as quiet.

"Must you?" Almost without thinking about it, Túrin leant closer. "You have a hundred thousand lives of men to live, Beleg. Can I not steal one of them?"

Beleg seemed to sway closer in return, blinking slowly. "Even one lifetime is a costly gift to give," he breathed.

"Aye. But I am, as you said, selfish." Túrin paused, for a moment feeling a swell of nerves that almost stopped him going any further. With hindsight, he might have named the feeling good sense; but listening to sense had never been his strong point, so he leant forward anyway.

Beleg didn't pull away when Túrin kissed him. He froze, and then for one glorious moment he kissed back, and Túrin felt as if his entire body was on fire.

Then Beleg pulled away, darting backward as if he'd been burned, almost launching himself entirely off the rock. "No," he gasped, short of breath. "Túrin, I- I cannot- No. No."

"Why? Why no?" Túrin said, instantly hating the bitter, almost whining note in his voice.

Beleg said nothing for a moment, simply watched him with wary eyes. Then he said slowly, "One life would be a costly price, but in loving you, I would be giving many." Quieter, he whispered, "Maybe all."

Bitterness choked Túrin's throat. "And I am not worth the price."

When Beleg's eyes met his they were suddenly angry again. "What would you have me do, Túrin?" he snapped. "You are mortal; brief and fleeting. You would love me, but in the blink of an eye you will be gone, released beyond the world to go who knows where. Who is to say you would even remember me, even be able to feel pain at my loss? But I? I will linger on, feeling the loss of you every day, forever moving painfully around the space you left behind." He shook his head. "Maybe I am selfish for avoiding that pain, but I do not think I could bear it."

"So you can just move on and forget about me?" Túrin snapped. "Well, perhaps that says enough about how much you care for me."

"You think this is easy for me?" Beleg said, his voice almost a shout. "You must think me cold indeed, to believe I could just walk away and feel nothing!"

Túrin didn't shout back; for a long moment he didn't say anything, simply sat and watched Beleg with eyes full of sorrow. Then he said softly, "Were our positions reversed, Beleg, and were you offering me your heart, I could not refuse. No matter the circumstance, no matter what stood against me, I could not refuse. I could not walk away, not if the gods demanded it."

Beleg stayed still, breathing hard, his eyes open wide in shock. Then he hid his face in his hands. "I am not Lúthien Tinúviel, Túrin," he whispered. "I cannot sing to the god of death; I cannot change our fates. We cannot be happy."

Hesitantly, Túrin reached across the space between them and took Beleg's hand. "We would be happy," he said, softly. "Even if it is but a moment. I swear to you, we would be happy."

Beleg slowly raised his head and looked at Túrin with wide, sad eyes. "I should never have spoken of this," he whispered. "I knew it would hurt both of us too much."

"Not if you change your mind." Túrin caught up Beleg's other hand and raised both to his mouth to kiss them reverently. "Not if you stay here with me."

"Now I wonder how I ever thought I could leave," Beleg whispered. When Túrin looked up from their joined hands, hope burning in his eyes, Beleg leant forward and caught his mouth in a kiss.

Túrin was stunned into stillness for a moment; then he pressed forward, kissing Beleg as if the elf would vanish like a dream.

It seemed only a few seconds before Beleg pulled back, leaving them both gasping for air. He pushed Túrin back when he leant in again. "Wait, Túrin, please, wait."

"I would do more than kiss you, meleth," Túrin said, his voice low with desire. He reached out and drew Beleg into his arms. "Ai, if you would permit it..."

Beleg kissed him before he could complete the sentence; Túrin kissed back fiercely, putting every unspoken feeling and desire behind it.

"I would, meleth," Beleg gasped breathlessly when they parted once more. "I will. But not now, not here. Still I must leave in the morning to return to my lord, and complete the task which he set for me; I must tell them where you are."

Túrin's arms tightened around him. "You cannot leave," he whispered. "Not now."

"I will come back. I swear, I will come back." Beleg kissed him once more, long and slow and soft, before pulling away, out of his arms. "But if we go further, I do not think I would be able to leave."

"Maybe that is my intention," Túrin said, his voice still low and rough.

"Yes," Beleg said, suddenly smiling, "And maybe I am just not willing to share my bed with someone who hasn't bathed in a week."

Túrin felt his mouth drop open in shock. "What?"

Beleg's silvery laugh echoed in the quiet land around them.

 


End file.
